Their Despair
by Mrs Doctor Who 11
Summary: How can they love anyone as much as they love each other, their lifeboat in this sea of insanity? They want to love, but the heart is a selfish thing.


Eyes meet across a crowded room; it's not love at first sight, but they both know anyone who experiences that is only falling for looks, and neither of them are really what you'd call beauties.

But he's dashing and his grin is dazzling, and she's quite pretty and funny and falling fast. They kiss and they dance and they rob the entire pub on a whim, and as they burst out the doors weighed down with silver and fancy coats and laughing fit to bust, they realise they really are quite perfect for each other.

He promises her he'll buy her the pub one day and she promises him she'll steal with him every night, and they laugh at the dreams they doubt they'll fulfill.

In two months, he marries her, and though it's only been a while since they met, she knows this is forever, because he tells her he can never love anyone as much as her, and he's _Monsieur Thenardier_ and he _never never_ lies.

He smiles almost shyly as they exit the church, him clutching her hand tightly, her grinning broadly in a plain dress, content to be with her prince.

They buy a house and he gets a job and she stays at home and they plan children. And then one day, he returns shaken after almost being run down by a cart in the street. It could've been the end of him, and so it is the end of them, and they throw away their old selves who conformed to God's plan and let their insanity reign. It's the same, as in their love for each other has never changed, but it's not the same, as in they find new ways to rediscover it every day.

It's about this time they realise that dreams don't have to just be dreams, that if you are willing to do anything, you can achieve them, and hey, they both like stealing!

They sell the house and he quits his job and they realise that they don't want children.

He buys her the pub with stolen money and she buys his heart with her joy.

It's amazing, but right now, they're happy. It's hard to believe, given their past and, undoubtedly, their future, but right here, right now, when it's just them and them alone, it's glorious. And so, though she pretends not to, she knows that is where it all goes wrong.

Three years. It's all they get, and it may seem like forever but really they'd need twenty just to feel like they'd started the life they'd yearned for as long as they could remember.

When she tells him she's pregnant, he swallows, blinks hard, and asks if she's sure. She shows him the small bump she's been hiding behind her corset for a month, and he mutters a curse and tentatively places a hand on it.

He looks up and smiles stiffly, then wanders off to change a barrell. And though she hates herself for it, she cries bitterly, because she knows neither of them can love this baby like they should, because he said he could never love anything as much as her, and he's _Monsieur Thenardier_ and he _never never_ lies.

The baby comes along and honestly, no one knew she was pregnant, and why on earth did she buy nothing but a few simple dresses and a plain crib?

Eponine doesn't cry much, just smiles and laughs, which makes her even harder to love because neither parent has ever been fond of the innocent.

The child is too good for them, and so when the poor babe catches scarlet fever and nearly dies, she isn't surprised, but believes the Lord has finally realised his mistake and is taking back this unwanted angel.

But, as though to prove her purity, Eponine pulls through, and of course they have to pretend that they're so relieved that they want to spoil her beyond belief, when really they feel nothing.

So dear little 'Ponine grows up in fancy bonnets and beautiful dresses, and Madame Thenadier clutches her heart and tells of how she never reaised what a treasure her daughter was until the fever, and Monsieur Thenardier hugs his daughter and says he is so relieved she is still with them, and he's _Monsieur Thenardier_ and he _never never_ lies.

Madame puts on a voice like honey whenever she speaks to her daughter and Monsieur stands his child on the counter and indulges her in the delights of pub life.

But pretending to love takes it's toll, and it's all they can do to not scream at her to stop being so bloody good and let them have reason to hate her.

Which is why they are almost glad when some wretched woman turns up on the doorstep, clutching a filthy bundle of rags with a grizzling baby inside.

Surely, it's a gift? Someone to take out their resentment on, a present from the devil when God has abandoned them?

So, gleefully, they drag her in and shout and scream and hit and suddenly, suddenly 'loving' 'Ponine is so much easier.

Easier... but still hard. And so, when Madame finds herself pregnant again when Eponine and Cosette are around five, she throws herself in front of a cart.

She, of course, loses the baby, but that was the point.

When he visits and asks what happened, she smiles and laughs about her clumsy little trip, but she sees in his eyes that he's been informed there was a baby, and that he knows what she did and why.

She cries, because surely this makes her a monster, and he kisses her and tells her it doesn't matter, and she's immediately fine because he's _Monsieur Thenadier_ and he _never never_ lies.

They go home and scream at Cosette and cuddle with Eponine and realise again that they really were born for each other, because who else could have done what they have and still love the other as much as when they first met?

But then Cosette is taken, the both of them too blinded by the money put before them to realise the consequence of letting her go.

'Loving' Eponine is hard again, but it's ok because they've found a new escape. Dear little 'Ponine likes to wander, you see, and so perhaps it isn't so bad if they just... let her. Twice now she's strayed farther than she bargained for, and returned home with tears and a police man.

But they don't care anymore, because they're happy and are back to spending all their time as just those two, them against the world.

And Eponine, dear, sweet little Eponine doesn't like being ignored one bit, and she begins to rebel and to fight with the street boys, and they could cry with relief because maybe she really is their daughter after all.

When they realise she is in love with Marius, they know she is, because of course what she sees in him is his money, surely? So they're proud of her now, God's little angel turned street rat.

But then she has to ruin it, doesn't she, by screaming outside ValJeans? Hitting her is a relief, an outlet for his resentment after the affection he's shown all these years, and he did warn her he'd do it, and he's _Monsieur Thenardier_ and he _never never_ lies.

Then she disappears, runs after Marius to fight at the barricade. She tells them first though, no doubt hoping they'd stop her, but they just nod and pretend they aren't listening as they pickpocket the punters.

When they find her body, afterwards, pale but for the red flower on her skin where bullet bit flesh, it's a jolt, to really and truly feel nothing.

They know they have never been able to really care for the child, but surely this should evoke some emotion, the death of their own daughter who they have raised from birth?

And near the end, she wasn't so bad, was she? Her rebellion had surely roused a little emotion, a little fondness, perhaps even a tiny amount of... love?

But all they feel is cold, hard, nothing, a wall that separates them from their daughter, a wall thrust up long ago by their stubborness to love only each other.

They look at each other and find it a shock to be this void of love for anyone but their partner... but this means they're back as they once where, with only THEM, and wasn't that when they were at their happiest?

A crushing weight is lifted off their shoulders, knowing that they no longer have to pretend, and tears of relief spring to both their eyes.

They kiss and he murmurs "It's finally over." again and again and he's _Monsieur Thenadier_ and he _never never_ lies.


End file.
